


Drenched

by floweryhanzo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Brothers, Conflict, Cuddling, Familial Abuse, Gen, Slice of Life, Yakuza, Young Genji Shimada, Young Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 22:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11792550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floweryhanzo/pseuds/floweryhanzo
Summary: Without Genji, Hanzo's life would be easier. And lonelier.





	Drenched

* * *

 

 

The morning dawns rainy, with droplets showering against the rooftops and windowpanes all around Hanzo. He waits a moment before letting himself accept that he’s awake, and instead of getting up and assuming the role of a man, he lets his being dissolve into the scenery with his weight becoming one with his bed until he can no longer feel it. Through an open window, the morning’s air and its gusts of wind enter his room, and as his eyes stare at the ceiling above bathing in the cold grey light, he imagines becoming the rain and coming down upon the land like a curtain, and how it would feel like to seep into its core, turning into a part of every tree and every blade of grass that grows upon Hanamura and the city enveloping it like a secret within. He wonders if he’d be happier that way - if the nagging emptiness that gnaws at his core every day that he wakes up here would be gone if he was nothing but a cloud, a fine mist condensing into the very thing that gave birth to life on earth.

The castle around him wakes up slowly. Sometimes, he can hear footsteps passing his room, but he never knows whom they belong to. Days are never quiet here. There’s always someone looking for something through the endless rooms spanning the floors of this building, a family member or a member of the family, the clan, as its most trusted members come and go on their daily tasks according to whim. Those sounds, the steps and the sounds of cups hitting tables, of heavy objects falling and being picked up, of tables moving, force him out of his bed. He moves to the window, long limbs stiff with sleep, and leans against the frames, peering out towards the scenery below. He can’t see the traffic or the city’s tall buildings from here, only the centuries old walls and the gardens that surround his home. He’s often wondered if he was put there so that he’d never forget where he belongs, and in contrast, whether Genji’s wanderings are because for the few first years of his life, his room always faced the city and as such, he could never let it out of his mind.

Genji.

Hanzo shivers. He closes the window and turns around again, picking up his formal clothes from where he’s set them the night before, already with a sense of foreboding stuck in the pit of his stomach. Instead of pulling them on he dresses up quickly in a simple robe, pulls up his long hair and wraps a tie around it, then leaves the room with his day’s clothes pinned underneath his arm. If Genji isn’t in his room or downstairs by the time he gets out of the bath, he’s not sure what he’ll do. Or worse, what father will do; the oyabun has called them both to the meeting with the clan elders, and if Genji doesn’t care, as would be the norm for him, then Hanzo’s got to drag him there by force. He goes through every single one of Genji’s hiding holes while submerged in a hot bath, but even as he does so, he realises there’s hardly time for him to go look for his brother, should he be missing: the sun’s already up. If he hadn’t wasted so much time in bed...

He’s still half-dressed by the time he’s rushing through the castle’s corridors again, this time towards Genji’s bedroom. A maid gives him a shy glance as he drags up the shoulder of his haori, but he barely notices her. Later, he wonders if she knew something he didn’t - it doesn’t matter in the end. When he gets to Genji’s room, it’s empty.

The castle is large, but there are only a few places within its walls that Genji would go to if he wanted to be found. Hanzo walks through them one by one, but by the time he returns from the dojo, he knows Genji’s gone. Waiting for him by the entrance to the castle stands Sojiro, the head of the Shimada clan: he watches Hanzo approach him, and every one of Hanzo’s steps feels heavier the closer he comes to the greying man. He lowers his gaze to the ground when he stands in front of his father.

”Where is Genji?” Sojiro asks him in a stern voice.

”I don’t know, father.”

Hanzo closes his eyes before the blow connects with his face. He feels blood splatter from the corner of his mouth over his chin and he can taste it on his prickling tongue, but he doesn’t shift or raise his eyes until he’s certain it’s respectful to do so - that he’s shown that he’s ashamed, and accepted the consequence of his failure. Sojiro reaches into his pocket and pulls out a plain white napkin; he gives it to Hanzo and looks him in the eye.

”I expect you to do well today,” he says then, the subject of Genji written over; ”This will be your responsibility one day, Hanzo. I want you to speak, but I want you to consider everything you say twice before you let it out. Only after you’ve made sure it’s worth saying out loud, you can go ahead and do so.”

Hanzo nods, pressing the napkin against his bleeding lip. Sojiro looks him over for a moment, his eyes critical, but in the end he seems to approve of what he sees and nods, too.

”Come. We’ve let them wait long enough.”

 

* * *

 

The rain’s still coming down hard when the meeting ends. Hanzo, shaking, walks through it still in his formal clothes, anger burning inside his stomach. He hardly notices the way in which the puddles on the ground splatter onto his hakama, or the way that his haori weights down around his shoulders - all he can see is the neon sign of 16-Bit Hero in the distance. A gathering of girls scatters from his way when he pushes through, giving him a look of mixed fear and curiosity. The momenst he’s in, he can see Genji’s group gathered in the corner. His brother’s faded green head, already showing the burned pale gold of his bleached hair from underneath, sticks up from the middle: he’s too caught up in the game to notice the storm that just walked into his lair.

Hanzo doesn’t care how many people he bumps into on the way to Genji. The group around him dissolves quickly to make room for him - they’ve seen this play out before and every single one of them knows who Hanzo is and naturally as follows, they all know to fear and respect him when he comes. Genji barely has the time to lift his gaze by the time Hanzo’s fist is wrapped around his collar, and his back hits the wall with a quiet thud.

”Oh, morning, big brother,” he breathes out with a surprised grin, ”You look upset.”

His eyes drop down to the cut in the corner of Hanzo’s mouth, and the grin on him dies out. Their eyes meet, and Hanzo hopes that every last bit of hatred in him flows directly through that gaze into the bloodstream of his younger brother and kills him on the spot - it’d be a good damn riddance.

”Why are you here?” he hisses, ” _Why_ are you here, Genji?”

”I wanted to ask the same thing from you, actually,” Genji huffs, but he doesn’t manage the same playful carelessness anymore.

Hanzo hopes seeing his bruised face hurts Genji as much as the morning so far has hurt him. Next, Genji’s eyes visit the sight of the katana tied around Hanzo’s back.

”Ah, the meeting, right?” he mutters, sliding down back on his feet as Hanzo’s grip around him loosens.

Hanzo steps back, but only far enough to give Genji the space to stand up.

”I guess I forgot about that.”

Seething, Hanzo wants to ram him right back into the wall, but instead, he lets his hands fist against his sleeves and simply stares at his brother.

”Who are you?” he asks his brother in a cold voice, ”Are you a Shimada, or a dog? No - even a dog would be loyal enough to come when asked.”

Genji grimaces. He gives a glance towards his friends and then tilts his head, aiming an embarrassed look at Hanzo.

”You’re making a scene,” he says quietly, ”Could we do this at home later, big brother?”

”You have no honour,” Hanzo spits.

Finally, he moves back enough to stand out of the crowd still gathered uncomfortably around Genji. One last look, and he’s ready to go; there isn’t anything more that he can say or do. He can hear a couple awkward laughs behind him as he walks out of the arcade, but he’s happy that Genji isn’t joining them.

 

* * *

 

The storm turns for thunder by afternoon. Hanzo doesn’t care: he stands in the yard, drenched to the bone, and shoots an arrow after another into the targets standing before him. His muscles burn, but with that burn, he feels his anger fading, and each roar of the storm that rumbles in the stone beneath his feet makes him care a little less about the day he’s had. For once, no one interrupts him, not for hours; no one knows to look for him here, or expects him to be stupid enough to stay outside in what appears to be the storm of the decade wearing nothing but a simple hakama and a kyudo-gi like the weather couldn’t touch him at all. He’s cold, but even numb and stiff, his fingers have a good hold of his weapon and its arrows. This is what he’s good at - splitting target after target, no matter which angle he aims from. Maybe he’ll never be good at anything else - maybe he’ll never be a good heir and maybe he’ll never make his father proud or have his brother respect him - but when it comes to the arts of war, he’s better than most. In the end, it’s tiredness that drives him to lower his bow. He stands there, long hair sticking to his head and his clothes heavy and dripping over his frame, and stares in the distance for a while, unwilling to return indoors even for a meal and another warm bath. He feels his heart beating against his ribcage and, closing his eyes, he concentrates on that feeling to know the life within him, the warm flow of blood inside his veins against the chill that makes his body tremble, and finally, a small tug of a smile passes over his lips.

Sighing, he gathers his arrows and returns inside the castle. As he passes, dragging wet marks over the floors, the same maid from earlier spins out of his way and puts her back against the wall to let him pass. His steps slow down and he stops, turning towards her; she gives him a startled look before turning her eyes towards the floor.

”You knew my brother was gone this morning,” Hanzo says.

She swallows.

”And he told you not to tell me.”

She sniffs and shifts weight from foot to foot, and Hanzo doesn’t blame her for being afraid.

”I’m sorry on his behalf,” he says then, pushing a strand of hair back behind his ear to stop it from trickling water down his neck, ”He has no right to ask an outsider to pick her loyalties between the members of our family. He’s forced you into an uncomfortable situation with few options to choose from - if you keep his secret, you’re conspiring against your employers and the Shimada clan. But if you betray him, you’re letting down someone who treats you well, like a friend, and you feel obliged to do as he asks you to in return for his kindness.”

He lets out a soft huff as she draws a trembling breath, half a gasp, and seems to shrink further against the wall.

”Next time he disappears,” he tells her, ”I won’t ask you to break his trust and tell me where he’s gone, but I’d prefer that you would tell me that he left. This way, you don’t have to choose a side.”

She glances at him quickly, then, after reconsidering, decides to look him in the eye for the first time. Eventually, she nods shortly.

”That is all,” Hanzo says and leaves her behind; before passing the corner, he can faintly hear her thank him.

 

* * *

 

”Ahh, Yuki, c’mon.”

Hanzo opens his eyes. The room is dark, if not for the faint light glowing from the yard below that reflects over the roof through the once more parted window. He doesn’t know what time it is, but it’s late, much too late for noise in the corridor; he turns around on his futon, slides his hand over his phone and checks the time.

3:42am.

He closes his eyes, blood rushing inside his ears. The sounds of late traffic in the city mix in with the drizzle outside, and then, it’s broken by muffled laughter.

”No, no, you’ve got to go. I’m serious,” Genji’s voice utters in a hushed tone.

”No, you’re not,” a female voice replies.

They both sound drunk. After a long silence, they burst into laughter again.

”Shh, shh, god - my brother sleeps in that room.”

”He’s so uptight.”

”I know. Which is why you need to be quiet.”

”Come on, Genji - just one more kiss.”

”I’ll give you a kiss tomorrow when you’re sober.”

”Am I ever sober around you?”

Silence.

”Shit,” Genji laughs, ”you’ll be the death of me. The _actual_ death of me, because if we wake up Hanzo or my father - you don’t want to know.”

Another silence. Hanzo tucks his arm underneath his pillow and rubs his face into it until he can barely breathe.

”Can we go in the garden, Genji?”

”You have to go, Yuki, I’m -”

”I want to do it again. In the rain.”

”Why are you like this?”

”Because I love you.”

”You don’t love me, you’re just smashed.”

”And you bought me a really nice bag.”

”Yeah, yeah. Seriously, I’ll call you tomorrow, just go before somebody comes.”

Someone stumbles and falls. More laughter follows. Eyes stinging, Hanzo picks up his phone again; 3:45am.

”Promise me you’ll call.”

”I’ll call you. First thing in the morning. Have I ever broken my word?”

”No, but...”

”No, I haven’t. So just go now.”

For the next three minutes, Hanzo watches the numbers on his phone’s screen changing. Then, when nothing else seems to happen, he places it down on the floor again and closes his eyes, hoping that that was the end of it. He’s already drifting back asleep when he hears the door of his bedroom sliding open.

”Hanzo?” Genji’s voice calls; it’s quiet, so quiet and soft that if Hanzo wasn’t awake already, he wouldn’t be waking up to it now.

Genji stays in the doorway for a good long while, his presence behind Hanzo’s closed eyes mixing in with the silence and the stillness of the night around him, until finally, the door closes again. Expecting to hear him walk away, Hanzo’s heart jumps when the next footsteps he hears come from inside his room still. He pretends to be asleep when Genji’s weight presses onto his futon: he smells drunk, and Hanzo has no idea what to expect next. For a while, the younger brother simply sits there, just like he stood in the door before, doing nothing, saying nothing, seemingly battling something internally. Then, as if things could get any stranger, he lays down next to Hanzo on the bed and curls up beside him. Now, Hanzo opens his eyes; he can’t not do it, completely taken aback by what’s happening, but even though Genji’s facing him, his eyes are closed and he looks like he’s just decided to come there to sleep. He’s wearing his party clothes - a close-fitting shirt and a pair of light pants, his hair suddenly a few tones greener than when Hanzo last saw him twelve hours earlier. His fists are pressed against his chin, and although Hanzo’s not that much older than him, it's hard to believe that Genji's already 19\. His shoulders are a little wet and in a few moments, Hanzo notices him trembling slightly - in an uncertain movement, he pulls up the side of his blanket and moves it over his brother’s shape. Afterwards, he watches him for a while in silence, wondering if he’s really asleep already or just pretending like Hanzo was when he entered, but in the end, it makes little difference as neither of them speaks nor draws any attention to the strange situation. The long day’s training still weights heavy in Hanzo’s limbs and eventually, his mind grows quiet again: he closes his eyes and lets his body relax, the warmth shared between his body and Genji’s making him feel drowsy and safe.

In a half-dreaming state of carelessness, he brings his arm around Genji and rests his chin on top of his head when the oxygen between the two of them grows short, and eventually, he falls asleep again like that, the background of quiet rain still pitterpattering over his window’s frame.

 


End file.
